


Vive Hodie (DD/Reader)

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Other, Reader-Insert, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4066261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diamonds Droog was the last man you'd have expected to show any sort of concern for the likes of you, yet here he was, helping you to your feet and reassuring you that it would be okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vive Hodie (DD/Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> i got disappointed by another diamonds droog/reader fanfic and wrote this one. i hope u enjoy it :0 it's gender neutral so everyone can enjoy it!! if it's requested tho i can write one of a specific gender uwu

Diamonds Droog was the last man you'd have expected to show any sort of concern for the likes of you, yet here he was, helping you to your feet and reassuring you that it would be okay.

Some buff Prospitians had cornered you in a dead-end alleyway, the leader jabbing her knife at your throat and spitting threats in your face, demanding money you didn't have. Behind her stood three henchmen, and at the alleyway entrance stood two more, keeping an eye out for trouble.

Blood dripped from the various wounds in your body, and from your busted lip. One eye was swollen shut, and your legs were weak from the abuse her gang and she had put upon you; the only thing holding you up was her knife and hand both wrapped around your throat so tightly that the edges of your vision began to gray and blur. Pain wracked you everywhere, and every time you so much as flinched you saw stars from the stinging of everything.

Just as you were starting to black out from a lack of vision, and just as you feel the blade press harder against your throat, she turns away, leaving you to sink down the brick wall, to the ground where your clothes will only get stained worse, where you'll only get dirtier than you were from struggling and being sliced and stabbed and punched. You practically choke yourself as you gasp for breath, your eyes squeezing shut and your hands reaching up to grasp at your rapidly-moving, aching chest. Your ears ring, but you faintly hear the sound of scuffling and fighting, and you hear the distinct call to flee from whatever angel has come to your rescue tonight.

When you're finally catching your breath, and the numbness goes away, and your ears aren't ringing as badly, you manage to open your eyes. Before you can turn your head of your own accord, a warm shelled hand touches your cheek and turns you. Initially, you flinch upon being greeted by the cold white eyes of a Dersite, and then you whimper upon realizing just who it is. Diamonds Droog, of the Midnight Crew- surely he couldn't have saved you for any good reason. But his cuestick rests on the ground beside him, and his hands touch you gently as he finds all of your wounds.

Suddenly he slides his hands under your shoulders and lifts you. "Come," he says, his voice startling you. "Tell me your name."

His voice is steel and monotone, and strikes cold fear into your nerves. A shiver runs down your spine even as he gently leads you away from this dark place, and you tell him your name in a frightened whisper. Upon another demanding request for information, you start to tell him why you're there- about the gang trying to mug you, though you had nothing to give them, and how you had tried to fight but had eventually been overcome.

Diamonds nods. "Well, let me tell you this- it won't happen again. I had a... talk with her crew, to put it lightly." You bite your lip at the way his voice takes on a sinister tone, and he continues. "You're filthy, . You'll be coming back to the base with me- I'll wash you and dress your wounds."

You have neither the guts nor the energy to be stubborn, or even politely request otherwise. The man has made up his mind, and you don't have the power to change it, so you just nod, and let him lead you into the middle of a street and down through a manhole. He pulls your jacket from your shoulders and hangs it up, then does the same for his own coat and hat- though they, of course, are separate from your own dirtied, bloodied clothing.

He then tells you to just stand there while he prepares everything, and you suppose you have no choice. After all, the man must not want you to ruin the hideout's furniture. He leaves you to yourself, and you peer around. It's much larger than you expected- about as large as the average apartment livingroom, with a kitchen nearby, and you can see the bathroom that he went into (or, at least, its door). There's a table with a few blueprints and coffee stains, and couches that are kept surprisingly clean (thanks to the man who saved you, you assume). You see Droog go back and forth between the kitchen and bathroom a couple of times, and there are four doors- you recognize them as bedrooms, each with the symbol of their rightful owner painted onto them.

Your observations are interrupted as you're once again approached by that cold man, who's suddenly taken your wrist in his. It's gentle, though, and his expression has softened- but not much. In fact, if you don't focus on it, it's not immediately noticeable. His face is much nicer to focus on than the pain and admitted fear you're feeling, though.

"Come on." He doesn't need to say it- you had no plans to do otherwise. You follow him into the bathroom, and, like the livingroom, it's larger than you expected, with a nice shower. He turns to you and steps away. "I trust you can undress yourself? You must be capable of such a simple task if you can fight a group of seven."

You flush a little, both at his... statement of unclear intent and at the fact that you're going to be naked in front of him. You reach up, though, and remove your shirt, letting it drop and doing the same for your belt, trousers and undergarments. He never takes his eyes off of you, and you avert your eyes, biting your lower lip a bit. Soon after you're undressed, you hear shuffling and the shifting of clothing, and your face heats up even more. He's going to go into the shower with you? Of course, come to think of it, it might make things easier for the both of you, especially if he plans on cleaning your wounds- but still.

His hand finds your wrist again, and you look up at him. The water's on, you notice, hot enough that some steam is rising from it, and he leads you in. Not a word is spoken between the two of you as he picks up a rag and a bar of soap. He cleans your face first, focusing on your cheeks and forehead, holding you out from directly under the stream of water. He then moves down to your neck, and you have to struggle not to turtle your head down or raise your shoulders. He's unbelievably gentle in everything he does, and it's all a pleasant surprise for you, but you can't stop your face from heating up to ridiculous levels at the situation.

Things are generally uneventful as he washes your chest and arms, though you occasionally hiss and flinch as he finds a particularly deep wound, only for him to grab you and hold you in place so that he can get at it. But then he gets to your back, and suddenly he's even closer than before, and if you press your body forward so much as an inch you'll be pressed flush together. Your breath hitches a bit at the thought, as you examine how lean he is, how deftly his fingers work at every crease in your body, how he focuses on you and every part of you-

A soft groan escapes you and he pauses, glancing to your face. "Sorry," you mutter, looking away and holding your hands over your groin. A bit of a chuckle escapes him, and suddenly he's even closer, gently moving your hands away.

"It's fine," he replies, the rag moving lower. A gasp escapes you as his hand finds your ass and gropes, and you instinctively rock your hips forward. God, you can't stop blushing, especially when you realize he's already half-hard, and when you feel his mouth find your sensitive neck and when his dangerously sharp teeth nip at you-

And then he's groping you again and your mind's starting to go fuzzy again. You move your hands away to rest them on his shoulders, holding him tight and pulling him closer, and he maneuvers you so that you're against the wall, the rag dropping, his hands starting to trace your body, up your arms and down your chest, down your stomach and around to your sides, teasing you, memorizing every curve you have. He nips more, occasionally bites, and there's probably a bit of blood but you honestly can't bring yourself to care. He has a leg between both of yours, and it's pressing against you, and by the end of this teasing session he has you aroused beyond belief, shaking and whimpering, hips rocking with abandon against him.

Soon both pairs of hands are moving, his still smooth as ever, yours shaking and admittedly clumsy as you fondle each other. He bucks into your hand, and you know he's fully hard, and it only makes it worse for you as he does the same to you, both of you just grinding against each other, your lips parted as moans escape you. He groans against your neck and shoulders and jaw, pressing kisses now between his bites, and you can barely stand it. You want him to hurry up with it, but at the same time there's not nearly enough of it when he suddenly pulls away. You whine softly as his lips leave you, as he removes himself from your hand and removes his hand from you.

You admit that the look you give him is probably a little pathetic, but he makes up for your embarrassment with a breathy chuckle and a kiss to the cheek. And then suddenly those lips are trailing down your body, and you give a little gasp as you realize what's happening. You put a hand to your mouth, watching as he closes his eyes and trails kisses down your chest, down your stomach, closer and closer-

Your knees buckle and he jumps to grab your hips, half pinning you against the shower wall, half holding you up. Soon he's kneeling between your legs, and those gorgeous white eyes open, staring up at you to examine your reaction, your hand still pressed tightly to your ajar mouth. He buries his face against you and opens his mouth, his tongue snaking out and licking the entire length of you, slowly, drawing a sharp moan from you. This licking continues, his lips pressed to you at the same time, working at you and somehow managing to find the things that drive you to moan more, your hips bucking by the end of it. "O-oh, god!" It's the first actual words this entire shower, and you squirm as they escape you, still muffled by your hand. "D-Droog! Droog, fuck, wait, I'm- I'm g-g-g-going to--"

He gets the point and draws his mouth back, licking his lips and standing back up. He's aroused as hell, and just looking at it makes you shudder. He reaches up, gently moving your hands, and suddenly presses his lips to yours. You taste cigarettes and wine on him, and, most clearly, yourself, and you grip his arms hard, your stomach twisting into knots, your entire body hot, and obviously not just from the water. He's still holding your hips, and he's grinding against you and you can barely handle all of it.

After a few moments, his hand snakes between your legs, and you shudder a little. One finger presses into your entrance, and you moan into the kiss, tensing up a little and arching your back. It's a little painful, but he doesn't move it for a few seconds, and you soon relax around it, allowing him to start to thrust it into you. Your hips rock instinctively against the finger, your head turning from the kiss, the noises you make no longer muffled, his lips once again finding your neck.

He works it in and out of you at a quick but gentle pace, keeping it up for a few seconds before a second one is jerked into you. It's the same as before- a short pause, and then thrusting until the motions are smooth, and the same once more with a third finger. And then suddenly they're gone, and you're left feeling empty and whining for him, hips still bucking and rocking in desperate search for friction.

But he's leaving the shower.

He's leaving the shower and you can barely stand, much less walk. You stare at him with a half-lidded look, panting and mumbling slurred, incoherent phrases at him as he opens the mirror to a medicine cabinet. He pulls out a box and you hear some unwrapping noises, and you suddenly understand what he's doing, and you're actually quite thankful. You'd not have thought of it, not in the state you were in. Thank god for Diamonds Droog, you thought, even as he came back into the shower, condom wrapped over his length.

He reaches down and hikes your leg up, letting you wrap it around his waist before he positions himself at your entrance. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck, and he accepts this without complaint, pressing his tip against you and rubbing for a few seconds before beginning to press forward.

You hiss a little as he does this. Fuck, he's thick. And long. God, he's huge, and the time between him starting to move into you and him pausing feels like ages, but he manages, leaving him inside of you and you just clinging to him and shaking, panting and trying not to choke on your own breath, steaming water pouring over both of you, any pain in your wounds numbed.

When the pain of him being in you numbs away into pleasure, and you can't help but rock your hips impatiently, he begins to move. He thrusts into you, gripping your hips once more, turning his head to kiss the hell out of your neck and shoulder. He moves at the same pace his fingers moved- quick, gentle enough that it doesn't hurt you and hard enough that it feels fucking amazing, the slap of carapace against resounding in the shower. You're admittedly loud with your gasps and moans and cries, whereas grunts and groans are the only noises he makes. One of his hands reaches down, gently rubbing and stroking you, driving more pleasurable noises from your somewhat raw throat.

Your admittedly sudden fuck session goes on for a few minutes that both seem to go for hours and seem far too short for your tastes before your gut begins to twist into even tighter knots, a heat starting to pool in your groin. "Ah- fu-fuck. Keep- keep that up... oh, god!" He does as asked, soon driving you over the edge, your vision fading into white behind closed eyelids, your body spasming around Droog. He's not far behind you, grunting and thrusting forward hard before hitting his own climax, shaking a little. He rides the tail end of it out, groaning into your neck and eventually coming to a pause.

The two of you stand there for a few moments, just catching your breath and clinging to each other, bodies shaking from the aftermath of your orgasms, before he finally pulls out, allowing you to lean against the wall while he steps out only to remove his condom, tie it and toss it. He comes back to you, quickly cleaning your lower stomach and hips and himself before he rests against you. The two of you relax there before you finish your shower and leave.

It's certainly a night you wouldn't be forgetting.


End file.
